


Ignite

by Anonymous



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Loki, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Tony, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One look at Stark's sly smile and Loki's mind is completely decided – he will have Tony Stark as his mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignite

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt:](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5102.html?thread=4927470#t4927470) Omega are so rare that alpha!Loki decided to go to earth to seek one. At first, he mistook Clint, a beta, as an omega and brainwashed him. Later, he found out that Tony was an omega and devised a plot to grab the smaller man.
> 
> I'd love to see all the tropes: knotting, lubricated ass, heat and claiming. Loki flipped between two forms and Tony got his ass banged and knotted for hours.
> 
> +100 if Tony couldn't be brainwashed so Loki had to activate Tony's heat before its due time.  
> +1000 if that made Tony in heat all the time until Tony got impregnated  
> +10000 for Tony carrying a Jotun baby  
> +10000000 if that's the reason Loki couldn't be taken back to Asgard for punishment. He had an omega and a child to care for after all.

Anthony Edward Stark, from what Barton has told Loki, is the closest thing Midgard has to a king Asgard would recognize. Wealthy, powerful, of great influence upon Midgard's armies, capable of accessing any information he desires with the help of a spirit woven into walls of his tower, unbridled out of battle and serious in – if Odin were ever remotely inclined to deign to treat personally with Midgard he would speak to no other.

None of which would have given Loki much pause if Barton had not mentioned Stark was an omega, and unbonded at that.

_Thinks he's too good for just any alpha. And he's right, though there's always going to be some stupid knotter who assumes his dick should be the exception and doesn't think the consequences of trying to force **Tony Stark** into a bond through. Stark can handle that, though – his security during his heats is legendary, **legendary**. Not bad the rest of the time, but he can't afford to take risks with his company, had that drilled into him the minute he presented._

Barton had shown him pictures of the man, videos of Stark in full charismatic action for the purposes of identification, and one look at Stark's sly smile and Loki's mind had been completely decided – he will have Tony Stark as his mate.

He has waited long enough - battle has never soothed the effects of rut for him as they have for Thor and he knows, the part of him that can bear to acknowledge it, that they are getting worse. Bonding will ease that of course, but more than anything else, he _wants_ a mate, someone who will choose him, stand by him, someone who will see Loki, all of him, as he is and not what Asgard would prefer him to be, close their eyes and insist he is.

Perhaps Stark will give him that, perhaps not, but Loki is determined to have him either way.

It is a simple enough matter to enter Stark's tower-home. He silences the spirit-voice that challenges him but does not destroy it. To have expended such time and effort weaving its presence into the very bricks of his tower Stark must care for it deeply and would be upset at its loss – hardly a good first impression.

He briefly considers attempting to take over Stark's mind as he did the beta Barton's but finds himself reluctant to do so. He is certain this time that Stark is an omega, which means he has other methods at his disposal, ones that cannot be challenged or broken by others. 

Centuries before there had been... an incident with a certain annoying omega – to be honest, Loki can no longer recall what had prompted it, or why he had been so incensed – that resulted in the discovery that a judicious combination of magic and strong alpha pheromones could force a heat before its time. Nobody had been able to prove anything, of course, but he might still have faced some unpleasantness from the omega's (quite exhausted) alpha if it hadn't been for a happy side-effect – namely that an induced heat did not begin to subside until the omega in question conceived. The birth rate of Asgard being what it was and with omegas so rare, he'd actually had couples shamefacedly _requesting_ his 'assistance'.

Being the civic-minded prince that he was Loki had often agreed, for reasons two-fold – practice, after all, makes perfect; and a heat in the middle of a feast or some other grand public spectacle resulted in scandals that were entertainment for decades.

"Jarvis?"

Loki stirs himself from his thoughts to find Stark entering the room, eyeing him warily. Anyone else would have had the sense to back away and Loki grins at him.

"I don't remember inviting a guest," Stark says. "Hey Jarvis, did we order in an alien demigod? Jarvis?"

"He won't answer," Loki says. "I felt we should have privacy for this."

"If you've damaged him –"

"Not at all – he only sleeps."

Stark relaxes instantly and Loki finds himself charmed by his sincere relief for the sake of his bodiless servant.

"All right," Stark says. "I'll bite –"

"No, I think that's my prerogative," Loki grins and Stark scowls, clearly irritated at himself for creating such an obvious opening.

"Privacy for what?"

"Can't you guess?" Loki says, makes sure to present himself properly, hides the tiniest of hand gestures to strengthen the alpha scent in the air.

"Sorry, honey, I don't put out on a first date."

Loki raises an eyebrow, amused. He doesn't know exactly what Stark means by 'put out', but he can make an educated guess, given the context. "Good," he says, taking a step closer, strengthening the pheromones Stark can't help but react to, even if he doesn't know _why_. "So I will be your first and last alpha."

"Uh," Stark says, blinking, and Loki does so enjoy the dazed look in his eyes. "Just because I don't let anyone have me in heat doesn't mean I haven't tested out any alphas–"

Loki snarls softly before he manages to recover himself – not yet, not yet, a little longer and Stark will beg for him and he need do nothing but accept what was freely offered – and shakes his head. "As if you would trust any not to overstep their bounds," he says and knows by the way Stark shakes his head as if to lose his thoughts that his words are true.

He is a powerful man, Loki's Midgardian prince – rich in gold, in servants, in praise for his work. If Midgard is anything like Asgard regarding omegas, considering them far too precious to be allowed such a position as Stark's – one guaranteed to make enemies – he must have fought hard to make it so and Loki knows well what that is like, how you must always be wary of someone trying to undermine and take hard-won power from you. No, Stark would never let an alpha he did not trust take him to bed, even outside heat – and he is a king in all but name. Kings can trust no one.

"I do not want your kingdom," Loki says. "Not your gold, not your magnificent armor. Such things mean nothing to me. But I would have you."

"I –" Stark begins, and Loki can see a fine tremble beginning in his limbs, the scent of arousal sharpening, beginning to fill the air. He sways a little towards Loki seemingly without realizing before catching himself. "What did you do?"

He demands an answer as if owed one and Loki smiles at both his perceptiveness and his currently misplaced sense of authority.

"My heat –"

"Oh? Is it so close? How fortunate."

Stark snarls at him, has to tip his head back to meet his eyes and do so, inadvertently showing his throat. Loki stills at the bolt of arousal it sends through him to see the clear skin he intends to mark, and mark thoroughly.

"My heat isn't due for – for another two months –"

"Yet here it seems to be," Loki smiles, showing teeth. "Perhaps it's Fate."

"Perhaps it's creepy magic _bullshit_ -"

Clever thing.

"Omega," Loki murmurs, "Won't you let me take care of you?"

"Biology doesn't rule me," Stark says firmly and he steps towards Loki as if to prove something – that if he goes to Loki it will be his choice?

"I would not have you choose me because of heat," Loki says and it has a hint of truth, like all the best lies. "I would have you choose me because you trust I ask nothing of you but you."

"You really expect me to believe –"

"All the power you have fought so hard for you may keep. I am a God – why would I want it? What need have I to diminish you? You alone are all that I desire. The only thing I ask is that you surrender your body to me."

Stark – Anthony's scent deepens at that, a sure sign Loki's words have touched gold somewhere in him, and Loki wonders – has he truly never had someone desire him for anything other than what he could give them? Admittedly, Loki can count the number satisfied with Asgard's – hah – lesser prince on one hand, and the number pleased to know _Loki_ on approximately two severed fingers and a torn-out nail, but there has at least been a few over the centuries.

"I want," Stark says, almost as if he has words to follow, and then shudders and corrects himself: "I want."

Loki keeps a careful distance – Stark has to make the first move, come to him – and waits. "I would have you," he murmurs. "I would work you open with my tongue until you beg me to take you, so slick with want it dampens your thighs and I could slide inside with one thrust. I would take you against every surface in this room, in every position; fill you with my seed in such quantities that it escapes even with you thoroughly knotted."

"Big words," Stark says, swallowing hard, and Loki flashes his teeth in a smile that makes him tremble.

"My word is my bond," he says, lets his gaze drift over Stark's body, devouring.

"Oh?" Stark says, licking his lips unconsciously. He hesitates only a moment – "Prove it."

"Gladly," Loki says. "But the first move must be yours, my darling."

Stark stays still for a long moment. Loki can smell his heat rising, clawing at him, and is almost concerned he won't – then Stark steps forward, wrenching his shirt over his head, baring his lovely chest, his brightly-lit heart. Loki will have to keep careful watch as his belly swells, take care the babe does not upset the equilibrium his body has reached with his mechanical heart. Not that he wouldn't in any case – to have his mate heavy with child, how could he not spend every waking second marveling at such a thing?

Stark moans when Loki runs a hand over his bared skin, trembles when Loki pushes aside his fumbling hands and tears the rest of his garments away, pushing between his legs to make space for himself.

Loki sinks to his knees and cuts off Stark's delighted laugh by spinning him around abruptly and spreading his cheeks, pressing his tongue between them to make Stark moan and surge up with a curse.

The first taste of his – _his_ – omega against his tongue is glorious, makes him press even closer, lapping at his hole, working him open as promised to get more of that ambrosia, proof of Stark's want.

Stark pants and moans and squirms, magnificently shameless, curses him with rising voice and on shaking legs and when Loki curls his hand briefly up and around Stark's aching cock he is undone, falls apart in a moment.

"Not – fair –" he manages, and Loki smiles briefly to himself, stroking his fingers up and down all the skin he can reach while preoccupied - _mine, mine, all mine_ \- well aware the heat pounding in Stark's veins will bring him back in a moment.

"Loki – Loki –" (and has there been anything more wonderful in the nine realms than his name said in such a manner, by such a being?) "Fuck – more, more, god fucking damn it –"

Loki has to laugh at that, drawing away, running his palms up Stark's thighs, checking – "God fucking," he agrees, licking the wetness from his hands, making sure to meet Stark's eyes when he turns to see what's going on behind him, curling his tongue around his fingers.

"Fuck," Stark says, his eyes hot with need, his face flushed with want.

"That's the idea," Loki says easily, grinning, before climbing to his feet and pressing Stark back against his bar, legs apart.

"Then hurry up and do it," Stark says. Loki grins, pressing his nose to his neck, scenting his readiness. Stark surges restlessly against him, tries to rut against his cock, still confined in leather, and Loki kisses his throat with open mouth as he unlaces enough to free himself.

"Beautiful," he says. "Beautiful and mine, Stark."

"Tony," Stark gasps. "My name – is Tony."

Why he would give away such a name as 'Anthony' for a diminutive Loki doesn't know but if it is what he prefers Loki will abide by it. "Tony," he says, puts a throaty purr into his voice that makes his omega whine softly with need. "Wrap your legs around me; I want to see your face when I fill you for the first time."

The speed with which he is obeyed is gratifying, and Loki teases for the sheer fun of it, sliding his cock between Stark- Tony's cheeks, slicking it with his natural lubrication.

"So wet for me," Loki breathes in his ear, "So desperate –"

Tony moans loudly, writhing desperately against him, chanting something that sounds like 'please', panting heavily, and Loki presses his teeth gently to the omega's scent gland, readying himself.

" _Loki_ –"

He sinks his teeth in hard as he sheaths himself in one quick thrust and Tony screams, more in pain than pleasure. A human could not draw blood with their blunt teeth without causing considerable distress; their marks faded without trace, leaving their bonding to be expressed by ring or collar. But Loki's – Loki's omega will wear his bonding upon his skin, impossible to take away. No other will touch him so obviously marked, that is the law, must surely still be law even in this realm.

Fully seated with hips flush against Tony's ass, he rocks slightly, reveling in the sensation of the tight wet heat surrounding him.

He parts his teeth reluctantly, pulls back to lick the blood from the crook of Tony's neck and give the praise he deserves. "Oh, you are lovely, my omega, so good, so perfect."

He pulls out to the sound of a protesting groan, presses back in to one of satisfaction.

"If you could only see how you look right now, how beautiful you are –"

Another thrust, harder, a change of angle and Tony cries out, tightening around him. His eyes are dark, his cheeks flushed, and he stares at Loki's face as if he cannot look away, as if even blinking might cause him to disappear.

" _Mine_ , all mine."

"Yours – more, Loki, please, harder – I want – I need – oh, god –"

His fingers tighten on Tony's hips, surely bruising, his pace quickening with his omega's demands, and Tony claws at his back and tries to press closer, as if to tie them together without a knot, moaning loudly with every thrust.

"Do you think you can come like this, just from my cock in you?"

Tony manages something like a whine, so desperate and needy it defies true description, and when Loki lifts one hand and just barely grazes his cock with light fingers he throws his head back and _howls_ , coming hard. 

It's enough, the heat and pressure and heavy scent – his knot swells, locks them tightly together and he sinks his teeth back into bonding bite, coming again and again.

He loses track of time, comes back to his body to find himself rolling his hips gently, every slight movement of his knot inside making Tony undulate languorously against him, moaning weakly.

"Are you – are you – _fuck_ – still dressed?" Tony demands, heat finally subsided enough to let him notice little things like Loki's complete lack of disrobement.

Loki laughs and kisses him deep and slow and filthy, nuzzles his bared throat. "You'll need the protection when I take you next," he says and just the thought is enough to turn the tips of his fingers blue.

"What kind of alpha – hnn – doesn't – doesn't want –"

"I want you," Loki says firmly. "I want to cover every inch of your skin with mine, leave no part of you untouched, and I _will_ , my omega, I promise you that, but not just yet."

Honesty does not come easy but this is his bonded, his mate, and he should know Loki like no other, should know just what he is in for. A marriage built entirely on falsehoods cannot stand – and marriage is what this will be, whatever others might think. If he cannot take Loki in his first shape – if he cannot carry the offspring of such a being... but he will, and Loki will know now, rather than years hence.

"This skin I wear is not the one I was born in. When I take you next – on your hands and knees, I think, or perhaps against that window – I will be a jötun, a frost giant, and the touch of my skin will be cold – not freezing, unless I lose control of myself – it will spare you some discomfort to have clothing between us in that state."

"Think the only thing I understood of that was 'hands and knees' and 'window'," Tony says, grinding restlessly against him – ah, the wonders of induced heat – and Loki manages to laugh as he finds his knot diminished just enough to let him pull free, wrenching a protesting moan from the man beneath him.

He could have stayed within him until his knot completely subsided, spent the time reassuring his omega of their bond as he wants to, but the shorter the knotting the quicker the all-encompassing need of heat returns and the stronger it is when it does. They have time for such bonding gestures later – hours and hours of it, for surely it will not take days to get his omega with child, however little Loki would mind spending the rest of his life in such a pursuit.

He concentrates as he maneuvers Tony into position, allows his jötunn heritage to take over willingly for the first time in his long life.

In a jötun's vision Tony blazes with heat and Loki finds himself taking moisture from the air and cooling it around his hands, ice forming on his fingers. Curious, he presses a hand to Tony's mouth and is gratified when his lips part automatically to take three fingers in, suckling eagerly, though whether he does so for refreshment, pleasure or provocation, Loki doesn't know or care.

The scent of omega in heat is overpowering, so strong it leaves him light-headed and so aroused it's close to pain. He lowers his head and tastes sweat between Tony's shoulder blades as he presses back inside so easily, the way already wet and marked – 

It's almost too much, the heat of him, and Loki knows his own touch must freeze despite his control. It manages to be simultaneously the best and worst thing Loki has ever felt and Tony utters hoarse little cries beneath him, broken syllables of pleasure/pain. He is _exquisite_ so undone, and Loki concentrates on fucking him exactly the way he wants, noting every hitch in his breathing, every little difference to his moans, every non-verbal cue letting his alpha know just what he needs.

"Mine, my beautiful omega – you're not leaving this room without my child planted inside you –"

Tony jerks at that, something odd mixing in his scent – fear? yearning? bitterness? – but all that escapes his mouth is a garbled " _Ah_ –"

"Everyone will look at you and know – know you belong to me –"

He curves his hand over Tony's stomach, imagines it heavy with his child, swollen beneath his palm, and can't help himself, slams forward and comes in waves, feeling Tony shudder apart beneath him, spurts of white decorating the marble floor.

He thinks he could be content to spend the rest of his long life buried inside Anthony Stark, the pair of them knotted together and shaking in the aftermath of orgasm. He collapses to the side, taking Tony with him, slides his hands all over his heated skin, admiring the contrast of blues against red-white heat.

He wants – he _needs_ skin against skin, never mind how much it will burn him, how much it will freeze Tony, and he rids himself of his clothes with a quick burst of magic, the way his teachers always scolded him for – such a misuse of his gifts, to use them in such an unnecessary manner.

Tony shivers violently and Loki means to pull back as best he is able, already cursing his impulse, when Tony shifts back, pressing tightly against him with a grateful sigh.

Loki is definitely keeping him.

The thing about heat that Loki did not understand without having an omega of his own is that the alpha can be as affected as the omega. He always considered such a thing to be an excuse or if not, something to be wary of - control is one of the most important things to have - but somewhere in Tony's heat he loses all sense of himself and doesn't even mind.

He has flashes of awareness – pressing Tony against the floor-to-ceiling window, whispering in his ear of just what others would think, seeing the famous Tony Stark crying out beneath him like the needy little omega he is – Tony riding him with head thrown back, full of enthusiasm – the noise Tony makes when he swallows his cock whole – the quiet intensity of kisses shared while knotted in the lulls between bouts – 

He cannot wait to have such things again in a clearer mind.

He knows the moment the purpose of his omega's heat is fulfilled, spends an hour or more that he can remember kissing and stroking every bit of skin he can reach, crooning his fervent praises into Tony's ear – and then he loses track of time again because the biological imperative may be satisfied but Tony still needs and Loki still wants.

He's not really surprised when he looks out at Tony's city and see that evening has descended but he is somewhat confused by the sheer amount of broken furniture surrounding them – he can't remember half it being there beforehand, never mind even guess what it was before. Hopefully whatever it used to be wasn't _too_ expensive.

Tony seems barely conscious, yet still he pushes weakly against him, trying to get closer. Loki dips his head and kisses him long and slow, stroking gently over his lower abdomen unconsciously, the need in his veins finally quieted to a murmur.

"Holy shit," someone – _Barton?_ – says, and Loki lifts his head and snarls before he can catch himself.

He stares at the group in the doorway and gropes one-handed along the floor for his cloak, eventually just summoning it to drag it over and shield his omega from sight. "Do you mind?" He rasps and has never heard his own voice sound so broken in the aftermath of sex. "We're a little preoccupied."

Tony recovers enough of himself to chuckle weakly and Loki can't restrain the loud moan the shaking of his body provokes. That it makes their unwanted audience extremely uncomfortable is a bonus.

"Please leave a message after the tone," Tony says, drops his head back down and sighs with pleasure when Loki licks his neck without a second's thought.

"Brother –"

Oh, of course Thor would have to ruin this.

" _Go away_ ," Loki snarls, lifts himself just enough to be able to conjure and throw a knife if necessary. "We'll talk to you – _later_."

Thor stares at him, nods once and drags the rest of the mortals away; Loki sinks back down into Tony's embrace and groans.

"Do we really have to?" Tony mumbles and Loki sighs, stealing a quick kiss.

"Yes. You needn't worry – it doesn't matter what they do, I am never letting you go."

"Good. Because you're not getting free of me either."

Loki presses his hand back to Tony's belly, sends a tendril of magic out and admires the tiny life he can feel developing within. His omega, his child, and he will burn Yggdrasil before he sees them parted.

Let all the nine realms be aware of that.

Let all the nine realms _fear_ that.


End file.
